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Friday, May 29, 2015

Sienna Diaz is desperate to find her missing Beagle, no matter what it costs. She hires Cruz Santino, the best—and hottest—in the business. He’s an ex-cop, dangerous on many levels, which comes in handy when all evidence indicates her beloved pet was snatched to use in a dogfighting ring.

Cruz will do whatever it takes to find Sienna’s lost pet, but he also wants results from the smokin’ hot attraction between them—and he isn’t above breaking his own hands-off-clients rule to get there. However, until he brings her beloved Beagle home safely, he won’t have Sienna's undivided attention...and affection.

In full view, Cruz stripped off his sweaty black tee and Sienna nearly had a heart attack. Jesus Christ. The men at her gym would’ve despised him. Her eyes slowly drank him in. Good God. He had the sexiest bod she’d ever seen. Taut and tan, his muscles were chiseled in a way that gave his dimensions beautiful symmetry. Tori would’ve been impressed. She’d always preached about the importance of muscle balance. Some men took it to the extreme. Not Cruz. He sported a tapered waist with shredded abs, V-shaped torso, and arms that made her drool because, if she had to pick a favorite body part, arms were it.

He used the dirty shirt to dry sweat off his gorgeous frame. Her eyes followed his movements, stopping at the bulldog tattoo etched on his sculpted pec, with the word Marines below. He’d been in the service, a kickass Marine. How hot!

He busted her checking him out.

She yanked her eyes away. Jeez. Her face probably looked as red as it felt.

Holding up a fresh shirt, he shook it out a few times. The sound of fabric caught her attention. Her gaze slid that way again. Okay. Sound had nothing to do with it. She just had to look one more time. He pulled the shirt over his head. Terrific. Now he wore a white muscle shirt tailor-made for his ripped physique. The thing should’ve been outlawed.

Wearing a sly smirk, he combed his fingers through his short, spiky hair. Running down the inside of his arm below his rock-hard biceps, he had another tattoo, this one with five small Chinese symbols. What a unique spot for a tattoo, and unbelievably sexy, like everything else about him. Even his name sounded hot.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and snapped his door shut. He didn’t look at her, but then, he didn’t have to. She knew he knew what kind of effect that little display had on her. Oh yeah. He had it written all over that smug face. He might be a soaking-wet dream she didn’t mind entertaining on a nightly basis, but she didn’t have to be so obvious.

Sienna grabbed her seatbelt and tried to latch it.

“Damn,” Cruz mumbled, as he watched her struggle with the belt. He turned on the ignition and flipped the air conditioning to the highest setting.

She looked at his face instead of his sinewy arm. It took willpower, because those arms really did it for her. “Is there a trick?” The mechanism wouldn’t click into place.

“I keep forgetting to get that thing checked,” he said. “Don’t usually carry passengers except for Roman.” He looked back at his dog and grinned. Roman sat on the bench seat patiently waiting to go bye-bye.

“It doesn’t work at all?” She preferred to wear a seatbelt, and not just because of the law. South Florida had some loony drivers.

“It just takes a little maneuvering,” he replied. “Let me give it a try.” He turned all that magnificence toward her and reached across her chest.

Holy crap, he was totally in her face, his delicious body stretched across her lap. Sienna held her breath and pressed her back into the seat. She felt his weight, smelled his soap and baby shampoo. Her every cell fell under his spell. She tried to find her voice. “Any luck?” she squeaked out.

They were eye-to-eye, his mouth so close that if she puckered her lips, that would be it. His gaze traveled downward. He tilted his head like he wanted to kiss her. Uh-oh. She hadn’t made out in years. She probably sucked at it by now. A magnetic intensity pulled her to him, and she had a feeling she’d relearn pretty quickly. Her body buzzed with sexual urgency. Not once in her life had she felt this consumed, this desperate to feel a man’s lips on hers.

About the Author

Born and raised in the Bronx, NY, Diane Escalera makes her home in coastal North Carolina. The sultry surroundings are a steady source of inspiration for her hot love stories. Diane is married, has two children and a super cute dachshund she can’t get enough of. She writes contemporary romance and is published with Kensington Publishing and Lyrical Press.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Holly Jenkins is about to receive a new heart, thanks to a donor match from accident victim, Chloe McQuade.The victim’s boyfriend, Bad boy Jax, is angry and grieving for his lost love. He hates everything and everyone, including Holly. It isn’t until he meets her that he realizes there is something about her he can’t explain.

Could it be the beating heart of his dead girlfriend - the very one he owned, that calls to him?

Is the intense pull towards Jax coming from Holly’s own emotions or are they Chloe’s? And why is she suddenly craving things she never did before?

The hardest part sometimes is
getting started! There’s also times as an author where you have the story in
your head but you have trouble getting it down on paper in such a way that
makes sense!

What songs are most played on your
Ipod?

I like a wide range of music. Bon
Jovi is my favorite all-time favorite band but growing up in Australia, I like
ACDC, Midnight Oil, Jimmy Barnes etc.

Do you have critique partners or
beta readers?

I don’t! Normally my editor
critiques my work to some degree but I need to start with some beta readers!
I’ve been tossing around the idea for a while so if any of you reading this
would like to become one, contact me please!!

What book are you reading now?

I’m reading Lost in Me by Lexi Ryan.
A woman wakes up battered and bruised in the hospital, the last 12 months of
her life lost to amnesia. She is engaged to be married and has lost lots of
weight but can’t remember any of it!

How did you start your writing
career?

My writing career started out with a
compelling need to write the story that had manifested in my head, down on
paper. I drove for miles to buy a word processor, as I didn’t have a computer.
I wrote the first draft on that and then borrowed my brother-in-laws computer
so I could re-write it and save it to floppy disc!! How things have changed!

I am currently writing a paranormal
story about angels and demons but may need to push that aside for now as I feel
there is something else brewing inside my mind!!

I was born in NZ and raised in Australia where I’ve been living most of my life. My love of books came at an early age, introduced to me by my wonderful mother. I’ve always been an avid reader and writing became an extension of that. My favorite genres are paranormal, romance, erotica and some crime. I adore animals and I’m currently sponsoring a Malaysian Tiger through WWF. Cats in general, whether they be small house cats or larger wild tigers and lions are my favorites. I’d love to travel to Italy and Europe as well as Africa, Tibet and Nepal.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Ana "Reaper" Keating has moved onto the Hugo Liberal Arts College campus, forty minutes away from her hometown. Dorm life will be incredibly different from her life in the cave at the quarry. Not only will there be reliable air conditioning and a roommate, but Reaper also believes she will no longer be threatened by the powerful and wealthy Goldwater family that adopted her mother, Sue, when she was a child. Neither Reaper nor her father, Jim, like to talk about Sue's death. And Mr. Paul, the Goldwater patriarch, still blames Jim for what happened 16 years ago. When Reaper learns that Mr. Paul's son, Ian, has also enrolled at HuLAC, she realizes that her days of dealing with the entitled and vengeful family are nowhere near over. It is Jim's worst nightmare, but it also what he has been preparing Reaper for all of her life.

Review I loved the way this novel was written. I was a huge fan of Kristi R. Johnson's writing style and character development. There was a great amount of creative thought that went into putting this novel together and you can tell. The plot and pacing were wonderfully done as well. I liked how things unfolded and there were several times I was trying to figure things out and was surprised.

Kristi R. Johnson is the creator and primary contributor to the book blog Door Stop Novels. Kristi currently works at the University of Texas at San Antonio as a Senior Admin, and part-time at Our Lady of the Lake University as a Writing Consultant. Kristi writes and reads whenever she can, and plans to keep reading, writing, and traveling as priorities in her life, always returning to her home in downtown San Antonio, which is little more than a treehouse with air-conditioning.

Reaper is her first full-length novel, the first 50,000 words of which she cranked out during National Novel Writing Month 2013.

Ava Michaels used to think she was special. As a child, she fantasized about having magical powers . . . making things happen. But Ava grew up and eventually accepted the fact that her childish dreams were just that, and maybe a normal life wasn't so bad after all.

Now a young college student, Ava meets Caleb Foster, a brilliant and mysterious man who’s supposed to help her pass physics, but in reality has another mission in mind. What he shows Ava challenges her view of the world, shaking it to its very core. Because Caleb isn't quite what he seems. In fact, he's not entirely human, and he's not the only one.

Together, the duo faces a threat from an ancient race bound to protect humans, but only after protecting their own secrets—secrets they fear Ava may expose. Fighting to survive, Ava soon learns she's not actually normal . . . she's not even just special.

She's a little bit more.

Excerpt

“Is everything okay?” Ava asked.

Caleb smiled, but didn’t look at her. “Sure.”

“You seem . . . I don’t know . . . nervous?”

He glanced at her briefly. “Just doing my job.”

Ava snorted. “Your job is tutoring physics.”

“Call this moonlighting.”

Ava tucked her hands more deeply into her coat pockets as Caleb returned to his steady surveillance. She started to say something more, but forgot it immediately when Caleb stopped suddenly.

“Caleb?”

“Shhh . . .” He stepped in front of her, his head tilted to the side.

“What is it?”

He touched a finger to his lips, his body impossibly still.

Ava froze, pressed slightly against his back as she tried to peer over his shoulder. He stretched his hand behind him, as if blocking her from something, and his fingers curled slightly around her hip, stilling her movement.

A prickle of awareness ran over her skin, stealing her breath. For a long moment, the world seemed to slow around her, growing silent and still, and Ava closed her eyes, unsure what she was searching for, but feeling her consciousness reach out, calling out into the darkness.

Ava gasped suddenly as a strong arm wrapped around her waist, sweeping her up in a blur of motion. Her eyes flew open, trying to make sense of the whirling world around her, and in the next instant, she found herself pressed against a wall, Caleb’s back to her. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she tried to regain her balance and clear her head. A low voice chilled her blood.

“Get out of the way, Foster.”

No. Not him. Not again. Ava’s confusion gave way to outright fear. She shrank behind Caleb’s back, as if hoping to disappear.

“Leave her alone, Tiernan,” Caleb said, his voice deadly. “The Council gave me three days.”

“No,” Caleb said, his voice a quiet but not subtle threat. “You’re not.” He grabbed her again, so fast she didn’t even see him move. Once more, she found herself fighting for breath, suddenly behind a tree and unsure of how she got there. A moment later, Tiernan’s hulking frame appeared a few feet away.

A flash of red and blue lights drew their attention, and Ava breathed shakily at the sight of a police car driving up the path.

Tiernan glared at Caleb. “This isn’t over,” he said.

And then he was gone.

Two city cops stepped out of the car, hands resting on their weapons, one shining a flashlight toward them. Caleb pulled Ava through the door into the dorm.

“What are you doing?” Ava asked. “We need to tell them he was back.”

“Not a good idea,” Caleb muttered. He grabbed her wrist, heading down the hallway, but she yanked out of his grasp.

“Caleb, what the hell’s going on?” she asked, stepping back warily from his angry gaze. “How did you do that . . . move so fast? What happened out there?”

“We don’t have time for this,” he snapped.

She reached for the door, Caleb’s eyes following the movement. Her challenging gaze focused on Caleb as she whipped the door open to run to the police and tell them what had happened.

At least that was her intent.

But before she even turned the knob, Caleb had her across the hall, all but carrying her around the corner.

She gasped. “What . . . what are you?”

Caleb frowned. “That’s not your concern.”

He placed a hand on her forehead, and the world went black.

About the Author

T.M. Franklin writes stories of adventure, romance, & a little magic. A former TV news producer, she decided making stuff up was more fun than reporting the facts. Her first published novel, MORE, was born during National Novel Writing month, a challenge to write a novel in thirty days. MORE was well-received, being selected as a finalist in the 2013 Kindle Book Review Best Indie Book Awards, as well as winning the Suspense/Thriller division of the Blogger Book Fair Reader's Choice Awards. She's since written three additional novels and several best-selling short stories...and there's always more on the way.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Paul Chaise is a former operative in the SBS – the Special Boat Service – but has been ‘retired’ for over ten years, living a quiet life in Spain, following a career as an estate agent, selling villas to the ex-pats seeking a new life in a new country. Everything is going very well until he inadvertently gives a hitchhiker a ride and his life begins to spiral out of control. This is the premise for the first book ‘Burnt Offerings’. At the end of the book, with his girlfriend fleeing to the UK, and his former employers incensed that he has emerged from his ‘cover’, he too is summoned to return.

‘Whipped Up’ sees Chaise trying his level best, but his old ‘employers’ have him followed and then he becomes involved with the problems of a customer who is being harassed by some particularly nasty Eastern European types who want to take over the running of this man’s houses. It all spirals out of control when this man is murdered and his wife tortured, her mutilated body left in Chaise’s flat as a warning to back off. Naturally, this has the opposite effect and the body count soon begins to mount up as Chaise goes on a one-man crusade to bring these Europeans down.

When the S.I.S in London gets wind of this, they decide to rein Chaise in, and that’s when it becomes really nasty!

A contemporary thriller set in the sordid world of human-trafficking, this second in the series pulls no punches and will appeal to anybody who likes their thrillers violent, fast-moving and with lots of twists.

Readers will enjoy this novel without having need to read the first in the series, as all is explained at the beginning of this volume.

While I did not feel the need to read the first in the series, I find myself wanting to go and pick it up. I truly enjoyed Stuart G. Yates writing style and the flow of the novel as a whole. There is plenty of Suspense and Mystery and the plot line was imaginative and unique. Great characterization and writing.

Born on the Wirral, in the United Kingdom, Stuart G. Yates went to school, but he may as well have not done so. Until he was sixteen he lounged around and did his utmost to make the lives of teachers hell. After school, he went from one dead-end job to the next, traveled around, met some great people, but had no idea where life was taking him, until one sunny afternoon in his local park, he sat and watched a group of teachers leading their children in a sports’ day. At once, he knew he’d found his vocation. So he went back to school, got educated and ended up in University studying to be a teacher. And all through it, from his days back in secondary school, to the moment he qualified as a teacher, he wrote. Stories, books, novels. And despite being a teacher of 22 years standing, he still writes. Since 2009, sixteen of his books have been published. He concentrates on historical fiction and contemporary thrillers. Whipped Up is the second in his Paul Chaise series, and he is working on the third whilst, in the meantime, drafting out numerous stand-alones. He is forever writing, which has to be a good thing. It keeps his feet firmly planted where they have always wanted to be – in the land of make-believe!

Monday, May 18, 2015

Mary watches in awe as a man plays guitar at gloomy Indianhead Reservoir. His skill is astonishing. But Mary is in the wrong place at the wrong time.This man is a physiological oddity who suffered wicked abuse at the hands of his foster parents—for which he took revenge. He wants to be normal and whole again, but a manipulative psychiatrist has wakened the demons.Mary will spend her last days chained in a basement—until she bears the child of a madman the media will call the Indianhead River Killer.He will become Pennsylvania’s most prolific serial killer, and he will wreck the lives of the people in Belcorte. Twin Peaks meets The Silence of the Lambs in GATES OF PERDITION, the prequel to MIRRORS OF ANGUISH.

Kurst Hellerman pulled a gold key from his pocked and unlocked the door to the study.

It was then that Arthur Townsend met the Monster of Belcorte. He sat in Hellerman’s study, tucked in the leather lounge chair. His eyes were closed. Immediately Arthur noticed the scars from his abusive background. His foster parents, Kurst said, had been devoutly religious. His foster father, in fact, had been a minister. The upbringing of this patient—Kurst called him Patient X—was riddled with malevolence.

When they had entered the room, Patient X’s eyes had flickered open, but he did not speak. Only the heaving of his chest indicated his heart still beat, that blood still surged through his veins.

Kurst circled the leather chair, stood behind the patient, and placed a palm each on his shoulders. “I’ve brought a friend. Would you like to meet my friend?”

Patient X’s gaze traveled from oblivion and fell on Arthur. One side of his face was so badly burned that he looked half human and half … something else. Maybe an opossum, its fur burned down to its pink skin.

As Arthur would replay that image in his mind the next several weeks—as the months traveled by, he would remember it as an image of great horror. And sometime he would wake in the black of night, startle and jump up in bed, and that face, that terribly ruined face, was imprinted in his mind.

For now, though, he felt a wave of sadness—a sadness that squeezed his heart and pricked at his throat. Who had done these things to another human being? What cowardly monster? That his parents were responsible, that this man had suffered at the hands of parents who worshiped a figurehead named Jesus—likely a delusional schizophrenic like the Muslim Muhammad—left him not terribly surprised. And despite this wave of sadness, Arthur felt threatened. He was compelled to leave the room.

Patient X said, “I can smell her perfume on you. Where is she?”

Who was he referring to? Heaven forbid, was it Margaret, or was it one of his self-aggrandizing hussies who sat in his—

No, it was Margaret. He hadn’t lectured, not since this morning. With the word “who” on his lips, Arthur gazed across at Kurst, who was lost in his own delusional grin, those eyes burning like pilot lights.

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R.P. was enamored of horror from a young age, where he would sneak down to the family room with his mother sleeping, turn on that big console television--think 1970s here--and watch a double shot of horror on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater.

He then took to creative writing, borrowing pieces of his favorite films. Today, he writes a unique blend of literary mystery and horror—throw in some crime now and then. It's one part H.P. Lovecraft and one part David Lynch and one part Kurt Vonnegut—and probably some other stuff, too. He is author of three books: Mirrors of Anguish, Demon of the Fall, and Gates of Perdition. He also co-authored Dangerous Grace, a soon-to-be-released erotic thriller.

Sensible dance instructor Tessa Gage likes her life organized, risk-free and on her own terms. When her cop brother goes missing, his crooked partner tries to kill her, and a handsome stranger claims he’s come to protect her, she’s forced to leave her comfort zone. With more dance and business sense than survival skills and no idea who to trust, Tessa has no choice but to rely on this man who’d rather be anywhere but by her side.

When carefree carpenter Matt Rylan gets a late night call from an Army buddy who once saved his life, he finds himself where he never again wanted to be—responsible for someone else. Honor demands Matt cooperate, but he never expects his simple babysitting job to test the limits of his self-control. Nor does he expect it to explode into a race against time for his very freedom.

As Tessa and Matt get closer to the truth, and to each other, Tessa learns to step outside the safety of her world to help set the wheels of justice in motion. For Matt, supporting this courageous woman suddenly becomes everything to him. Yet, his biggest challenge remains sharing his closed-off heart with her before the danger silences them both forever.

EXCERPT

Tessa cringed. Froze.

The studio remained still. Her brother’s warning sprang into her head; if something didn’t feel right, get the hell out of there.

As quietly as she could, she stepped to the doorway and studied the empty dance floor. Shadows coiled around the lobby furniture to her right, accentuated by the pale moonlight seeping through the window blinds. Everything appeared normal. And yet, it felt wrong.

A blast of frigid winter air barreled from the rear of the building.

Thump...pause...thump.

Tessa scrambled to the desk, grabbed her cell phone.

Thump...pause...thump.

Shadows expanded on the floor behind her. Her fingers shook as she pressed 9…thump…1…thump.

“Tessa.”

The phone slipped from her grasp and clattered on the tile floor. She swung around and came face-to-face with a dark-haired stranger.

“How did you get in here?” How the hell did the man know her name?

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The lock on the back door needs to be replaced.”

He took a step toward her.

“Stay away!” She clenched her fists at her sides. Good grief, he blocked her only exit.

“Take it easy.” He raised his hands. They were empty of a weapon, but he had used them to break in when most of Hanover was already in bed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Why should I believe you?”

They stood still, facing each other. He didn’t look so tough in his brown leather bomber jacket and construction boots—average height, average build, average features.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” She raised her chin, throwing out a fearlessness she didn’t possess. Damn, how many times had Jason tried to teach her self-defense? Why hadn’t she paid more attention?

“My name’s Matt Rylan. I’m a friend of Jason’s.”

She shook her head. “I know my brother’s friends. I’ve never seen you before.”

About the Author

Alexa Bourne is a teacher by day and a romance writer by nights, weekends, and all school holidays. She also teaches online classes for writers throughout the year. She writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance and is thrilled to have the chance to share her stories with readers everywhere.

When she’s not concocting sinister plots and steamy love scenes or traveling and exploring new cultures, Alexa spends her time reading, watching brainless TV, and thinking about exercising. Okay, she also spends way too much time interacting with readers and writers on social media sites. But don’t tell her editors! Find out more about her and her books on her website, www.alexabourne.com.

A young boy—tossed an impossible situation by his psychopathic uncle, father or sister, he must kill one for the other to survive.

Two decades later, Dylan has developed his psychic talents, trained by the military, learned the skills necessary to locate the family he’d abandoned as a child and kill the devil himself, Roth. On the day he’s discharged, his ex-boss offers assistance in locating his sisters, demanding help with one more mission in exchange.

Tori, a young woman weeks away from graduating with her Psych doctorate, is torn from her stable life and thrust into a world of espionage, warriors, and unexplainable phenomenon. The man she loves, Major Clannahan, attaches her to the unit charged with locating a terrorist cell. Dylan, leading the unit, draws her like no other. Yet the darkness buried in his soul will test her skills and patience beyond anything she’s ever known.

Kiera and Kyley, identical twins challenged by the extremes of evil yet remain pure of heart, both bound to their man with a love withstanding the tests of time and tragedy. One a warrior, the other with a warrior’s heart, each wield formidable psychic talents, sought after by a psychopath and terrorist bent on destroying the country.

A group of psychic warriors, dedicated to fighting evil in the shadows, locating and helping others develop their paranormal talents without splintering society’s tenacious perception of reality.

These are the extraordinary people living among us, protecting and preserving our way of life. Courage and honor, duty and strength of will can sustain us for only so long. Eventually, we must find our own path forward, learning to open our hearts to love even as we risk the ultimate pain.

EXCERPT

“The choice is yours, boy, but understand—not deciding is making a decision. Do it before I make the decision for you. Only difference is, I won’t kill one, I’ll kill them both. Father or sister. You have all the power.”

Roth kept his tone calm and gentle. The evil coiled tightly within warmed his soul. He fancied the boy killing his father, silently rooting for the infant to survive. He could have lots of fun with her over the coming years.

The boy’s father would die either way. He’d bound and beaten him just for fun.

“Daddy? What do I do?” Tears streamed down Dylan’s face, sobs racked his entire nine-year-old battered frame. His gaze slid from his father to his baby sister, now held by Roth. When he looked back at his dad’s bruised and bloodied face, he cried harder. His dad’s eyes were swollen almost shut.

The gun shook uncontrollably in the boy’s small hand. “Daddy?”

Boredom shadowed his mind as the excitement of the climax dimmed with the child’s indecisiveness. His gaze wandered out the window above the kitchen sink.

In the back yard, a massive, wooden play structure stood, complete with swings, tunnels, overhead ladder, and a slide. How extravagant for just two children, one still an infant. His sister always belabored the little things. Shame she’s not present to witness this. He would’ve found this even more amusing.

The blond haired infant cradled roughly in his left arm actually cooed at him. Disgusting. If he kept this thing, he'd have to hire a nanny. Still, the thought of it growing up with half the powers his sister enjoyed years ago made the brat worth the trouble...If she survived today. He sighed.

* * * *

“Dylan, son, it's okay. You’re going to be all right. Look at me. Remember how we played catch this morning? When you think of me, you’ll remember how we played ball today. Okay, son?”

What else could he say in this horrific situation? His own psychotic brother-in-law was forcing Dylan to commit the most heinous act imaginable, choose between patricide and sororicide. Roth had always been the canary in the crazy mind but even Devon hadn’t seen this coming.

“Awww, isn’t this touching?” Roth muttered, no doubt weary of his twisted game. “What a little wimp. I’m growing tired of your indecision, boy. I think I’ll just slice this little bitch’s throat. After all, she’d probably just grow up to be a carbon copy of her mother, stubborn and willful. Wouldn’t want more of that in the world, would we?”

“Noooo, please. Please don’t hurt her! She’s just a baby.” Facing where he knew his son to be by the sound of his sobbing stifled his thoughts. “Son, I know this is the hardest thing you’ll ever do, but you must. Please. It’s all right. I love you more than anything.”

Dylan retched, fumbling and almost dropping the Glock 9mm pistol. It probably felt like the heaviest thing he’d ever held, certainly his first time holding a gun.

His small frame trembled, tears streamed from his eyes, hair matted to his face. Red, swollen tissue marred the right side of his face, the result of Roth’s cold temper. The kitchen table supported his slight weight as he leaned one forearm on its edge.

“Roth, please don’t do this. He’s just a boy. Be the sniveling coward you’ve always been. Do it yourself.” Articulation was slurred through split and bloody lips. His tongue slipped between the gap of two missing teeth.

Though partially open, his right eye refused to focus properly. Warm, wet liquid traced a path down his face. Gravity would always trump decency. Blood splattered his clothes. Patches of gray clouded the edges of his vision. Unconsciousness lumbered near. The drumming in his head kept pace with his rapid-fire pulse. No child should ever see his father this way, unable to protect his family. Even if his son survived Roth, which he began to doubt, he'd be scarred for life.

“Oh, Devon, Devon, Devon. You just don’t get it, do you? I’m not a coward,” Roth admonished. “I have no qualms about ending any of your lives. Watch, let me demonstrate.” His patronizing voice oozed in the air like oil spreading over water to corrupt with its filth. Roth pulled the six-inch blade from its sheath at his waist and held it to the baby’s throat, who lay cuddled in the crook of his left arm.

“No, don’t. You bastard!” Devon strained at the rope binding his hands behind his back. “Dylan, listen. Take the family crest ring off my finger. Go ahead, son, take it. It’s yours. It’s our coat of arms.” Twisting sideways forced the bonds to cut his wrists as he removed the ring from fingers slick with blood.

When his son took it, he realized these would be his last words to his boy. “Put it in your pocket, you can get a chain for it until you’re grown. That ring is a symbol of your strength, son, a symbol of your commitment to do whatever’s necessary to protect your family. Remember this, Dylan.” Dear God, he'll have nightmares the rest of his life...if he survives.

About the Author

Of the many lessons life seems intent on throwing her way; the most important one Shyla’s learned is to take the time to enjoy family and friends. The flux and flow of changes aren’t something to fight, but adapt to with the best of your ability. One day’s heartbreak is often followed by another day’s triumph. The only barricades remaining are the ones we refuse to navigate. She hopes you’ve enjoyed this story. Shyla’s website, ShylaWolff.com, will be updated as Dylan’s journey continues.